Blood Haven
by Dante de Troy
Summary: A fresh face doesn't last long in Bludhaven
1. Chapter One

Blood Haven  
  
By Dante  
  
Chapter One  
  
"You have to play the cards as they fall." That's what my father always said. He told me that we really don't have all that much control over what happens in our lives, we only control how we handle what life throws at us. I guess, in the end, he was probably right, but I always had a hard time accepting it. I always thought that I was master of my own destiny, captain of my own ship, that sort of thing. It took something pretty fantastic to prove to me that I was wrong.  
  
I was twenty seven the first time I set foot in Bludhaven. It was as far as the last of my money would take me. Six months before I'd received my honorable discharge notice from the US Army. I'd just finished a six year tour and had no real desire to go back to the college town I'd left. Like a lot of servicemen, I had a tough time readjusting to life in the real world. After six months of working everywhere from warehouses to docks to security in bars, I was at the end of my rope. That's when I'd read the ad in the paper. I was in Kansas City at the time, trying to hold on to my job at a steel mill while the company was handing out pink slips like candy. Hard work, it had said. Hard work, good pay, great benefits. No experience necessary. Apply in person, 17th St. Blood Bank.  
  
Yeah, I know. It should have been obvious, but to a mook like me, it wasn't. I still thought in blacks and whites, and that didn't leave much room for "what ifs" and all that stuff that happens in gray areas. Yeah, I was really ready to handle Bludhaven.  
  
When I stepped off the bus, the first thing I noticed was the smell. It seemed like a cross between a butcher's shop and a sewage plant, with that wet grunge in the air that most places only get when it rains. The sky was gray and angry looking, as if it was just waiting for the rest of the poor shmucks to get off the bus before it let us have it. Sure enough, almost as soon as the last passenger had set foot on the clammy concrete, the sky opened up and gave us a nice, wet welcome.  
  
I'd called ahead to a boarding house on Oak street, a place whose biggest advantages were its location and its price. In other words, it was a cheap room in a bad neighborhood that made it even cheaper. When I saw it, it pretty much lived up to my expectations. It was an old tenement, lots of boarded up windows and graffiti all over the front wall. I'd gotten "lucky" enough to get one of the rooms on the eighth floor, which was the top floor, so my room still had a window. That was about its only redeeming value. The walls looked like they hadn't seen a coat of paint in about forty years, and the drywall behind what was left of the last paintjob had turned a sort of strange brown color that almost made it look like wood. The only thing that made it almost tolerable was that it had a skylight, but even that didn't really brighten my day, given the torrential downpour coming from the sky.  
  
Being Mr. Organization and having at least a little bit of that Army discipline left in me, I'd even called ahead about the job. They'd told me that I should come in first thing in the morning after I got in which, it just so happened, gave me the night free to get the lay of my new neighborhood. First thing was first, though.  
  
I had been a small kid in school, always a little bit shorter than everyone else, and my fast metabolism had made it really hard for me to put on weight. Consequently, one of the first things I had done after joining the service had been to take care of that particular situation. Every night for six years had battered my once-weak body into the shape I'd always dreamed of. I wasn't a believer in weights, but in old fashioned training. Three hundred pushups, two hundred sit-ups, chin-ups, yoga, and tai-chi. At twenty-six years old I was five-foot nine and weighed one-hundred and eighty pounds, all of it lethal. I know, that must sound pretty humorous to you. It definitely was to most of my comrades. They all thought I was insane. They may have been right. To anyone who's never been told how small they were, it probably wouldn't make sense to kill yourself every night to make yourself at least somewhat physically imposing. That's their problem.  
  
After my workout I tossed on a coat and ventured out into the gloomy night. The rain had eased up to a mist that was just soft enough that it seemed to float into the air and ease its way into your skin as opposed to battering through as it had a few hours before. I had seen a small diner just a few blocks from my room when I'd walked from the bus depot and I figured that maybe I'd use my last buck or so to pick up a bite to eat. I could see the diner just about one more block up when I realized that I was the only one on the street and that there were footsteps coming from behind me. I wasn't even surprised when a kid who looked to be maybe fifteen stepped out from the alleyway I was approaching. Taking a quick glance behind me I saw he had about three buddies with him.  
  
"Nice night for a walk, huh guys?" I said. There were muted giggles from the kids. It was obvious to me that they were on something. What, I didn't know, and that's what had me worried. Any normal shmuck can be counted on to do whatever's in his own best interest. Junkies are another story entirely.  
  
"Yeah, man… *sniff* nice night for a… huhhuh… walk." That one was the one who worried me. He was hanging to the back of the three that were behind me and his right eye seemed to have a sort of a twitch.  
  
"Where you headed, man?" This time it was the one in front of me, the obvious leader of the group.  
  
"Nowhere special." I said. "Just going to get a bite to eat. Came a long way today and I'm pretty hungry."  
  
"We're hungry too, man, think you can spare us a few bucks for a… hehe… hamburger?" The leader again.  
  
I shrugged. "Sorry, guys. This is gonna be my last two bucks. Maybe next time."  
  
By this time they'd already started to circle. I could tell that all of our chatter wouldn't amount to anything. They were just trying to jockey for position, more with each other than with me, each trying to get the best position for when they jumped me.  
  
"You said you came a long way today, man… just move into town?"  
  
"Yeah, that's right."  
  
"Well then welcome to town!"  
  
He telegraphed his lunge before he'd even finished talking, so I was ready when the knife came out. He came straight at me, arm extended. His first mistake. I twisted to one side and brought his arm down on my knee, breaking it at the elbow. I knew that four to one was probably more than I could handle, and so was three to one, but I'd be damned if I was going to let a bunch of overgrown schoolyard bullies take my lunch money.  
  
The other three were circling, as their leader lay whimpering on the ground, clutching his mangled arm. I picked his knife up from the ground where he'd dropped it and held it out in front of me, keeping my arm bent and shifting to try and keep all three of them in front of me.  
  
"Aw, you done messed up, sucker." It was the sniffler who spoke to me, his glazed over eyes making his statement all the more chilling.  
  
"Now we're gonna hafta really fuck you up."  
  
"Oh, and the knife was just for show, right?" I fired back.  
  
That's when the rush came. They all moved on me at once, their speed surprising me for a moment. For junkies, they were fast. I managed to sidestep the first one easily, pushing him past me. As he went, I dropped to a knee and hamstrung him with the knife, sending him crashing into a heap, crying like a baby. That was my first mistake.  
  
While I was kneeling, the second one moved in on me, catching me off guard in the face with his shoe, a nice, worn-in Doc Marten. In case you didn't know, Doc Martens were originally made with the German skinheads of mid eighties in mind as the target consumer group, so you can probably figure out what those boys used those big heavy shoes for. Needless to say, when you take one to the head, it hurts. I went down and the knife flew into a gutter. I saw them circling over me, the leader had gotten back on his feet and was glaring down, clutching his arm the whole time.  
  
"Time to die, bitch."  
  
That was the first time I heard the voice.  
  
"Why don't you boys pick on someone your own size?"  
  
He seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere all at once. The big one, the sniffler, he went down first. Something hit him hard and fast in the head and he crumpled like an empty bag of chips. I saw a shadow pass me and then it stopped for a moment as it head butted the other one. Then there was just the leader and I was on my feet. He was spinning wildly, trying to figure out where the attacks were coming from when I tapped him on the shoulder. No snappy lines, no witty banter. I just hit him really hard in the face and he fell down.  
  
"You must be new in town." The voice said from behind me. Somehow I managed to keep my cool and not break out shivering.  
  
"What makes you say that?" I asked, trying to keep the quivering out of my voice as I turned around. He was barely visible in the mist, but I could make out the shape of him. He was big, at least six foot, and dressed in black. I'd seen some big guys in the Army, but this guy was ripped. Not bulky, but he looked like a snake ready to strike.  
  
"Most people around here know not to go wandering alone after dark."  
  
"I was just coming up the street from my apartment for a bite to eat. I'm only a block and a half away."  
  
"Like I said. You must be new in town. You got lucky this time. Be smarter next time."  
  
He seemed to drift out of sight into the shadows and he was probably long gone by the time it occurred to me to say "thanks". 


	2. Chapter Two

Blood Haven

By Dante

Chapter Two

With my new neighbors safely tied to a streetlight and relieved of the few bucks they had in their wallets, I decided to continue on my way to the diner. After all, there's nothing an old soldier likes more than a good meal after some exercise, and I'd certainly had my fill of the latter for the evening.

The diner was nothing fancy, but it looked like it had been once. You know the sort of place. Looks like it might have once had that Norman Rockwell feel to it, the kind of place that they ate at in that painting... oh, I can't remember, but its the one where you're looking in at the diner from outside. Well, whatever it had been before, what it had become was something that, while not exactly cozey looking, still had the look of a place that could supply you with a grease filling for an empty stomach at a price that was easy on the wallet.

The place smelled of dried grease and sweat, but that was a smell that was entirely comfortable with, especially considering that I'd spent plenty of time eating in a lot less hospitable locales. Of all the details though, the one that really fascinated me was the waitress. She looked to be abotu my age, but her eyes looked a lot older than her face. They looked like the eyes I'd seen when I first got off the plane overseas for my first combat tour. Haunted, wary, ever-aware of the conditions around her, like a doe in woods heavily patrolled by hungry hunters. That being the case, I didn't really expect much in the way of conversation. I wasn't disappointed.

"Hi." She said.

"Hi."

"What'll it be?"

"Coffee and whatever's cheapest."

"Everything's cheap."

"I guess a burger then. Medium rare, if you can."

"Got it."

I settled onto a worn bar stool at the counter and inhaled the aroma of the coffee. Not the finest columbian beans, but it would keep my eyes open. The waitress brought my burger over a few minutes later and sat it down on the counter in front of me.

"That'll be a dollar twelve."

I laid out some coins and started to dig in. To my surprise, she sat down across from me and lit up a cigarette.

"I saw what happened outside. You should be more careful."

I looked up from my food and met her eyes. She immediately took on a defensive look, as if she expected an attack.

"You're probably right." I said. "But at least those guys got what was coming to them."

"You got lucky. He doesn't usually come down this way until later into the night."

"Who? That guy?"

"Yeah."

"Who is he?"

"Sort of our neighborhood watchman slash angel. But even he can't be everywhere. Like I said..."

"I was lucky."

"Yeah."

The rest of my meal passed in silence. I wiped my mouth and, for some reason, laid down a few more coins.

"Could I get another cup?"

"You should leave."

"Excuse me?"

"Its not safe here. They'll be coming soon."

"Who'll be coming?"

She now looked afraid, almost frantic, and the feeling was infectious. I suddenly felt like I was being watched from all sides, examined... hunted.

"You have to go. Now."

I left the coins and got up without a word. Something inside me said that the girl wasn't just blowing smoke. Something was going to go down and she didn't want me to get caught up in it. Outside, the punks were still tied to the streetlight, but I could hear sirens coming closer so I left them alone and hurried back to my apartment. Inside, I locked the door and the windows and tried to lay down for a few hours of shut-eye before I had to go my interview. I didn't have much luck.

When I woke up the next morning, the sun was coming up, but it was barely visible behind the ever-present smog and clouds. I pulled a small radio out of my duffel bag and plugged it in to listen to the news while I shaved, hoping to hear something about the guys that I had helped "him" take down last night. There was nothing about them, only news about several street punks found dead in an alley dumpster, apparently having bled to death.

That should have been my first hint to leave and I should have taken it, but nobody ever accused me of being the brightest bulb in the box. I wish they had.


End file.
